Under the Bridge
by jhoom
Summary: Dean had grown up with stories of the creature under the bridge, but he'd never dreamed any of them were true. Not until his best friend goes missing.


**AN:** Written for the destielficletchallenge and my prompt was trolls. First time ever doing a fanfiction challenge. When I first got the prompt of "troll" I was like... wtf am I even gonna write? I came up with three different stories (case fic, kidstiel and this one) and this seemed more my niche so I went with it :)

I honestly thought I'd end up with like... barely 2000 words. But the characters had other ideas I guess (I didn't even plan on giving Gabriel any lines but apparently there were things he just *wanted* to say). Oh well! I'm glad I was able to keep it under 10,000! I actually ended up cutting a lot of things to make sure I wouldn't go over...

The challenge was actually pretty fun since I got to try something I normally wouldn't. The deadline was killer, but it did push me to finish this faster than I would have otherwise.

As always, also on ao3 as jhoom and tumblr as jhoomwrites

* * *

The Township of Lawrence was beholden to the Duke of Crowley, though he lived far enough away that no one had ever seen him nor did he seem to show any interest in their little corner of the forest. It held five villages, all of equal size and importance (which is to say, they were equally small and insignificant). There was nothing special or even remotely interesting about any of them. They were each just another line in some ledger, checked off annually by the Duke's men who came to collect what was owed.

It was all in all a quiet place. There were farmers and hunters, fishermen and carpenters. A learned man from the capital had moved there, acting as the Duke's local notary. They had built a school house a decade or so back for the local children. The young women took turns playing school mistress until they married and outgrew the role.

Perhaps, if pressed for local legends, there was one thing that made the Township special. There was a bridge on the path that lead out of the forest. It was a bridge as unremarkable as any. Solidly built, going over a narrow but deep chasm in the landscape.

The bridge was strange only for two reasons. The first being that no one remembered it being built. It had been there as long as any village in the Township, longer even if the old wives tales were to be believed. And second because the custom was not to travel on it at night. It was the only way in or out of the Township, yet no one dared cross after dusk. The few outsiders who had tried usually went missing.

Or so they say.

* * *

Dean Winchester had lived in the Township all his life. His family had lived in the western most village, the one closest to the mountains, since it had first been built near upon a hundred years ago. His mother's family were hunters, his father's farmers. Hell, he'd never even been outside the Township's borders except _maybe_ once or twice by accident while hunting.

By the time he was eight, he could honestly say (and _would_ say, any chance he got) that nothing interesting had ever happened to him. The thing that came closest to being interesting was when his older cousin Johnny had let the pigs out of their pen and had spent a whole day and a half chasing them through the woods trying to find them all. But that hadn't even happened to _him_.

He was starting to become certain, in a way only an eight year old can be, that his life would be nothing but one boring hunt after the next. At least, until he met Castiel.

One day a horse-drawn cart appeared at the outskirts of town, all the worldly possessions of a trio of boys packed tight inside. The gossip started almost as soon as they arrived at the inn, but it took a whole week for all the details to be sorted out.

The boys were from a city - an honest to god _city_ \- somewhere near the Duke's castle. Their father had been a writer up until their mother had died a year ago. He then took to drink before disappearing a fortnight ago. With no interest in staying in town, they'd sold what they could and traveled due west to the farthest pocket of civilization they could find to start over.

The eldest brother, Michael, had been an apprentice blacksmith. He took up that position in town, a much needed protege for the half-blind man currently working the fires. The middle brother, Gabriel, was an energetic and independent young man of thirteen. Too young to have chosen a craft, he ended up working at the inn as a server.

And then there was Castiel.

Close to Dean's age, if not a few months older, he was a quiet boy. No one had heard him say a peep since the family had arrived. He sat quietly in the back of the school house each day, taking it all in. The other children shyed away. He was new, and there being somebody new was just **not** something happened. Visitors were few and far between, but someone honest to god _moving_ there?

But this didn't bother Dean. It was something _interesting_ and maybe moving wasn't something that had happened to _him_ , but making friends with this new boy could be. So he'd plopped himself down next to the new boy, enthusiastically introduced himself, and made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that they were now best friends.

To say they hit it off would be an understatement.

The two became inseparable. Castiel would tell Dean all about the city he'd come from and the trip he and his brothers had made here. Dean would show Castiel around the village and the surrounding woods. They would whisper conspiratorially to each other in class, though they would have nothing but innocent smiles when the school mistress would come by.

It was a friendship that grew with the boys. As Castiel trained to work on the Milton farm as a beekeeper, he would sneak out honey to give to Dean. They would climb the trees just out of sight of the hives and snack on honeyed bread. Dean, for his part, was perfecting his hunting. He'd always try to catch an extra squirrel or pheasant to share with Cas, or baring that gather some raspberries.

Dean stopped caring that he nothing _exciting_ or _interesting_ ever happened to him. He was excited at each and every opportunity to spend time with his best friend. His best friend who would hang onto each and every word he said, because he found _Dean_ interesting, just by being himself.

He was lucky enough to get eight years of that normal, tranquil life. Of Cas and hunting and his family. He could live in that world where the most excitement you get is the occasional pig escape.

It wasn't until about a week after this realization, of truly understanding that he could be happy forever in this life, that fate decided it had other plans for him.

* * *

They never find out how the fire started. But it caught and spread like the house was nothing but tinder. Dean had been out hunting with Sammy and their cousin Christian, but the smoke had alerted them to trouble. It wasn't until they got back to the village that he realized it was _his_ house on fire, _his_ family's tragedy unfolding.

The whole village was frantically trying to put out the flames, buckets being brought endlessly from the well. Christian went to help, but Dean pressed on with his brother, only twelve, clinging desperately to his sleeve. He may have been muttering words of comfort, or babbling curses, but he doesn't remember. He only remembers falling silent when he sees his parents.

She was hurt. Mary, his beautiful loving mother was hurt. He didn't let himself think past that - think that maybe she was dying right now, already dead even - but rushed forward. Their father was holding her gently, swaying slightly in distress.

"She's alive," he answered the question they were both too terrified to ask. "Your grandfather's gone to get the doctor." He lived in the next village, it could take maybe an hour for him to get back. At the soonest.

The four of them huddled together, listening to Mary's gasping breathes. One of the beams had fallen on her leg when she'd gone in to make sure the boys weren't there. Its unforgiving weight had pinned her down, trapped her, until John had rushed in and saved her. But the damage was done. She'd been in the house too long and now her lungs, clogged with smoke, were failing her.

The doctor told them as much when he arrived. They moved her to the Campbell house and lay her gently on the guest bed. The whole family stood vigil, waiting for the inevitable. John refused to leave her side, clutching her right hand in his and fighting the tears in his eyes. Sammy clung to their father's side. Dean, more terrified than he had ever been, stood at the foot of the bed. Just starring.

That was how Castiel found him, eventually. Covered in soot, he took a seat next to Dean. Carefully, like he was approaching a spooked horse, he leaned in and took Dean into his arms.

It took him a moment to respond, to warp his arms around his friend in turn. "She's dy... she's gonna..." but he couldn't finish. Saying it was almost like making it true.

Cas pulled back, brushing the hair out of Dean's face before cradling his face in both hands. "Shhh, don't." Once he had calmed down, gotten control of the sobs threatening to take over, Cas continued. "She's not going to die, Dean. I promise."

 _You can't promise something like that,_ he wanted to say. But he was too greedy, wanted to believe it too much, so he said nothing.

They stood there for a while, hands clutching each other, before Cas slipped out wordlessly.

* * *

It's well past midnight when Castiel returns. The room is so quiet but for Mary's weezy breathing that his footsteps instantly wake Dean up. His throat is dry from the tears he finally allowed himself when it was just him and his family. Once the cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents had left them.

Somehow Cas is even dirtier than before. Soot from trying to quiet the fire has been replaced with dirt and grime. His hair sticks up more than usual, and it looks like he has a busted lip and there's something about the way he holds his left arm that seems off. There's even a layer of sweat causing his skin to glow in the low light.

What has he been doing?

Dean wants to question it, but he gets lost in what Cas is doing. He moves to the hearth and starts making tea. Tea, of all things. But when he puts the tea leaves in, there's something else. Maybe a stone a size of the walnut. Dean's too groggy to really make sense of what's happening, yet he knows this is strange. Even for Cas.

He silently approaches Mary, somehow manages to not wake up either John or Sam who are sprawled over the foot of the bed. There's some coaxing needed, but he manages to get her to drink the tea. The most she can manage in reply is a grateful humming that turns into a brief coughing fit.

On his way out, he stops by Dean. In the darkness they briefly make eye contact before Cas turns away. "Go back to sleep, Dean," he whispers and pulls a blanket over his shoulders. "Get some rest."

Dean grunts in reply and is already drifting off when the door shuts.

* * *

To everyone's astonishment, Mary is still alive come morning. More than that, her breathing is no longer labored and she seems well on her way to a full recovery. Even her leg doesn't seem to ail her. The doctor is as stunned as the rest of them, so much so that he doesn't even try to take credit for the improvement.

In his excitement, Dean rushes to share the good news with Cas. He has not needed to knock before entering the Novak home in years. He almost bursts in as he usually does, but the sound of a raised voice stops him on the porch.

A frown slowly replaces the dopey grin he's been wearing since the doctor left this morning. Eavesdropping wouldn't be appropriate, he knows that. But his surprise at hearing Michael - who is normally so calm and stoic - yelling gives him pause. Without really meaning to, he leans in and presses his ear against the door to hear better.

"How could you _do_ this, Castiel?"

"There was no other way." His voice would sound defiant if it weren't for the slight tremor in it.

"Do you have any idea what you've _done_? What you've given up? Did you learn _nothing_ from father's disappearance?"

A silence loud enough that he can hear his own heartbeat before Cas finally answers, almost defeated, "I know full-well what I've done. I... I can accept the consequences."

Dean expects more yelling, but when Michael speaks again it's with firm resolve instead of anger. "I'll take care of this."

And then there are footsteps moving toward the door and he barely has time to jump out of the way before it swings open. Michael storms past him without even taking notice, nothing but fiery intent as he heads out of town.

It takes a moment for him to recover and head inside. The Novak home is small, only the main living space and a loft where the brothers sleep. Even so, it takes him a moment to spot Cas by the fireplace, cradling his head in his hands. "What was all that about?"

Cas' head snaps up. He searches his face and Dean tries not to look guilty. He swallows heavily in spite of himself but manages to hold eye contact. Eventually, Cas just sighs. "How's your mother?"

It's an obvious deflection. And although Dean wants to know what the hell he just heard was all about, he gives in. He tells his best friend how his mother is going to live, how happy and grateful he is. Somehow he doesn't notice the space between them disappear but they end up thigh to thigh, sitting on the deer skin rug he'd given Cas years ago after his first solo hunt.

The whole thing is comfortable. Being with Cas has always been the easy part, and he fervently hopes it's something that can remain unchanged.

* * *

There's another fire that evening. Thankfully not in any of the villages or even in the forest. No, it's the bridge. The one Dean's always been a little afraid of, despite no other evidence that he fears heights. It burns in thick black clouds that choke the sky.

Strangely, though, it wasn't the smoke that had alerted the villagers to the fire. Some claimed they'd heard an inhuman screeching, a high-pitched whistly sound that had carried through the trees.

It's assumed to be an accident... until they found the burnt whisps of straw and a broken lantern. People were suspicious, obviously that there was someone deliberately lighting these fires. Everyone was on edge, but the weeks passed and nothing else fell in flames. The tension slowly ebbed out of the Township. Although they agreed the bridge was arson, with no suspects and no other incidents, it was something everyone agreed to let go.

Months and then years pass. It becomes a story that people talk about but nothing more. So much time passes, that when people start to go missing, no one makes the connection...

* * *

Four years pass and nothing really changes. Sure, the Winchester house and the bridge have been rebuilt. Dean has grown up, enough that his mother is gently nagging him to pick one of the village girls and settle down in a house of his own. He blushes each time it comes up and nervously avoids her eyes as he stammers nonsense about not being ready for that just yet.

Dean doesn't want to tell her he's not interested, that he likes the things the way they _are_. Living with his family (though he will admit, some more privacy would be appreciated). Hunting with his brother and cousins. Spending afternoons and dinners with Cas. It's a simple kind of paradise he's built around him, but it's his and he wants it to last as long as it can.

It's a foolish wish, one that he knows can never come true, but the way the world falls apart isn't in the slow, subtle ways he had come to expect. Instead of a future that creeps up on him, it arrives full force with a scream from the edge of the village.

A woman is shrieking hysterics while her husband tries to comfort her. The wood fence along the back edge of their property runs along the woods, but there's a gaping hole where the posts have been turned to nothing but splinters. Dean and Sam, both worried and curious, don't understand her distress until they see the blood on the ground.

Her son is merely the first to go missing. Then, in the village just north east of them, the baker's twin boys disappear one after the other. After that the school mistress' older brother can't be found, a hole in the roof above his bed the only clue that something's a miss. Within a fortnight there are seven missing people.

The hunters are called in each time, but they never find any footprints or other clues. A musky smell, perhaps. One the dogs scrunch up their noses at before whimpering and refusing to track it.

It's not until he's half asleep later that night that it hits him. In his almost dreamy thoughts, he notices that all of the missing people have something in common. All of them are young men of an age with him. Tall with dark hair. About the same build, too.

He bolts upright at the thought. An undefined type of terror grips him as he struggles out of his blanket and bed. His senses don't really catch up with his body until he's running the last ten feet to Cas' house. It's only then that he realizes the door is off its hinges.

When he pushes past it at a dead sprint, it takes one look at the forlorn expressions on Gabriel and Michael's faces to know.

* * *

He remembers very well the last time he saw Castiel.

The Campbells might be hunters, but the Winchesters are farmers. And while he might have been raised a hunter, it had never excused him with helping out on the family farm. His grandparents had been keeping both him and Sam busy with chores. The excuses were flimsy at best, but he gave in without much of a fuss. If it meant keeping Sam out of the woods while people were going missing, so be it.

(He had ignored the fact that everyone who had gone missing had been taken from their homes.)

Dean was in the barn shoveling hay when he heard a small, "Hello, Dean" from behind him.

"Hey Cas, what's up?" He wiped at the sweat gathering on his brow. It was back-breaking work and he'd been doing it all morning. Cas' little visit was a nice little break.

There was a look in his eyes, intent and bright, that kept Dean from saying more. He merely raised his eyebrows in question as Cas approached. He recognized the look. Cas only looked like that when he'd made a decision that he was stubbornly going to follow through.

Once their lips crash together, it takes him a moment to react. Even then, his body catches up first and responds eagerly. He already has his arms grasping greedily Cas' hips to pull him forward. When Cas' tongue presses against his lips, he eagerly submits and opens up to him.

Somehow they end up on the ground. Dean only notices because the straw is prickling at the back of his neck and Cas' weight keeps pressing him down into it. Not that he cares. He didn't even know this was something he'd wanted, but his hips keep bucking up so he clearly does not mind.

Cas has a hand running through his hair, the other tries to hold his hips in place while the thumb rubs slow but insistent circles. He's gently - though with the slightest pressure of teeth - sucking Dean's bottom lip into his mouth. Then abruptly, the pressure is gone and he's no longer on top of him.

"Hmph," is of course all Dean can say, eyes flying open to find out what's going on. But the other man hasn't gone far. No, he's merely moved down to between his thighs, a playful but hesitant look in his eyes.

Dean's mesmorized, starring into those familiar blues. Doesn't really notice Cas undoing the lacing of his britches or pulling them down just enough. All he sees is a hungry look in his friend's eyes before his tongue darts out and takes a small, curious lick.

A gasp is the only reply he can give as goosebumps appear along his arms. Cas must like that, because he does it again and again. And then when he stops teasing Dean and finally wraps his lips around his dick, all that me manages is a strangled, " _Fuck!_ "

His hand finds its way to Cas' neck, fingers slowly threading through the messy hairs at the nape. "Please," he whimpers. "Please, Cas... _Please_..." He's babbling, no idea what he's asking for because until this moment he hadn't even thought... not even _dreamed_ of seeing Cas like this. In between his legs and eagerly bobbing up and down on his cock.

Then he starts kneading the curve of his ass and he's gone. "Cas, I'm gonna... _Casss-_ "

And Cas, the bastard, his only acknowledgement that he understands Dean's warning is to fucking _moan._ Dean's back arches as the vibrations roll through him, coming in waves that Cas seems all to happy to swallow.

Almost immediately Cas is back to kissing him senseless. He can taste himself on Cas' lips and that's almost _too much_ , almost enough to make him hard again but his mind is too dazed. Sighing happily, he lets Cas rock into him again and again until he finally finds his own release.

The pair remain like that a while, boneless and content. He feels like jelly, but he still manages to wrap his arms around his friend and pull him close. If they weren't in the middle of his grandparents' barn, he'd let this feeling carry him off to sleep.

Dean laughs suddenly at the absurdity of what just happened. It's too much to unpack at the moment, something he'll need to think about later. All he can do is smile back at Cas who pulls him up off the dirty ground.

They don't talk about it. He's sure they will - they'll _have_ to, at some point - but right now they don't. There's just a quick, chaste kiss before Cas disappears.

* * *

There'd been a smile threatening to break out all day after that. Nothing had soured his mood until he'd rushed into Cas' house. His fists are clenched and his jaw's tight as he takes in. And then the last piece clicks into place.

"He knew this was going to happen." Despite what he feels, all his voice conveys is his total shock at the realization. "The bastard fucking knew, didn't he?"

"I told him not to be alone," Michael had growled out.

So yes. He had known. Great, now on top of everything else he was feeling, add to that knowing Cas had only wanted a quick fuck before disappearing. Awesome.

"Cas wasn't going to let any more people get taken because of him-"

"All the more foolish," Michael snaps. "You've defended his poor decision-making for too long, Gabriel." If Dean didn't know better, he'd have sworn Michael glared at him when he said that last bit. As if this were _his_ fault.

"Hey, shut up for a minute." It said something about how dire the situation was that neither brother looked affronted by this. "Do either of you know what _happened_ to Cas? Like, where he and the others were taken?"

Silence reigns until Michael scoffs at him. "It's too late for Castiel. I did what I could, but he'll have to deal with the consequences himself now." And with that he shoulders past Dean and leaves the house.

He raises an eyebrow at Gabriel. He wants to ask if he'll be as completely fucking useless as his older brother. What he manages to say is, "That all?"

Gabriel hesitates. "I don't really want to get involved here. Michael, as much of a dick as he's being, is kind of right. Cas knew what he was getting himself into. There's really nothing any of us can do about it anymore."

"Like fuck there isn't. I'm gonna go out there find the stupid bastard and bring him back or die trying."

He raises an amused eyebrow at the vehemance behind Dean's response. "Yeah? Well good luck with that, Deano, cuz the odds are stacked against you on this one."

"You two are his fucking family!" he all but screams. "Your his brothers and you don't even seem to give a shit!"

"Hey, Dean? Fuck you. I like you, kid, I really do. But you don't know jack shit about this. You're out of your depth here. We all are. Cas is gone and in all licklihood probably already dead. Get over whatever it is you think you're feeling about all this and remember that he's _my brother_. Just because I'm acknowledging there's nothing I can do about this doesn't mean I'm not fucking _upset_ about it."

They stare each other down for a moment. Righteous indignation fuels them both, but in the end it's Dean who backs down. With nothing more than a look he hopes conveys the strongest _Fuck you_ he can muster, he turns and storms out.

* * *

Since legends and old wives tales seem to be coming true, Dean decides to visit the next local legend. While stories of the bridge had haunted his childhood, they had always been balanced out by the stories of the woman in the woods. A Seer, an earth witch rooted to the forest (though hopefully not literally, because gross).

They say you can only find her if you need her, or some nonsense like that, but Dean heads out anyway. All the stories he's ever heard say she lives in the shadow of the mountains. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean, but he figures it at least means he heads west.

He doesn't tell anyone where he's going. Even he knows this plan of his is hair-brained at best. No one would understand how desperately he _needs_ to find Castiel. So he sneaks into his own home, grabs his hunting gear and a few days worth of rations, then rides off on his father's horse.

The ride is long and lonely. Dean is not one to do well when left alone to his thoughts, and now is especially bad. Everything that crosses through his mind centers around Cas - is he okay? what took him? can he save him? what the fuck happened in the barn? - and not having a single answer is not helping his state of mind.

He almost doesn't notice that the trees start to grow scarce until he has stepped abruptly into a clearing, complete with a small cabin. It's nearing dusk and a single window glows with flickering candle light.

Somehow, he hadn't really expected to find the witch and isn't quite ready to believe he has in fact done so. He cautiously dismounts and leads the horse forward, wary as to who might live this far into the woods. The door creaks open and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Dean Winchester," says a friendly voice. "I've been waiting for you." He can _hear_ her smile that he can't quite see in the fading light. She jerks her head towards a post. "Why don't you tie her up and come inside. We need to talk." She leaves the door open but heads back in, flowing skirts dragging behind her.

He does just that. The woman is seated at a table by a low burning fire. He sits across from her and watches her light a lantern. The glow reveals more of the room and her face. The milky film covering the woman's eyes tells him immediately that she's blind, something he can't help notice, but she seems to look right into him.

It makes him uncomfortable.

"Alright kid, what can I do for you?"

He's taken slightly aback. "Who are you?"

"Name's Pamela. I think you know what I am-"

"Then why don't you tell _me_ why I'm here?"

Her lips crook upwards. "Yes, I know why you're here. And yes, I can help. But I want to hear _you_ say it. I need to know what _you_ think you're hear for."

He shoots daggers at her, then sighs with frustration when he realizes she can't see him. "Why?" he asks in irritation.

"Because you have to work for it."

There's a moment or two of fidgeting, eyes darting around the cabin, before he sighs and decides to just get this over with. "My friend Cas has gone missing. Someone, something, I don't even know, took him. I wanna find him."

The witch rewards him with a warm smile. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" If she hears him scoff, she chooses not to comment on it. "I admire the enthusiasm, I really do. But you need to understand just what you're walking into with this."

"Are you going to actually going to tell me or just leave me in the dark?"

She seems to consider for a moment, and Dean worries she'll decide this isn't whole thing isn't worth it. The idea that _anyone_ could think Cas isn't worth it bothers him, and he's about to say as much when she gives a small smile. "You remember the old bridge that burned down a few years back?"

"Yeah, of course. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Tell me, do you know why people stayed away from it at night?"

"No," he finally admits. "Not really."

"Really? No stories or warnings you heard that maybe you just chose to ignore?"

He hesitates. Sure, there had been plenty of stories. But they were all _ridiculous,_ tales told by adults to scare children into behaving. Pamela just calmly lets him sort through what he knows and what he's willing to admit. "Some people said it was cursed, but uh..." He wets his lips before continuing, "I guess most people who said anything said there was... _something_ that lived under it."

Another soft smile. "Let me guess - you better do your chores and mind your mother and stay in at night or that _something_ was gonna getcha!"

"Yeah. Yeah I guess that's what people said."

"Well, they weren't completely right about that, but the important thing is that they weren't completely _wrong_ either." Whether she expects a reaction from him, he doesn't know. He says nothing and just waits. "There was a troll that lived under that bridge. Now, I know what you're thinking - that trolls can't be real and if they were they wouldn't be living just outside _your_ village. And obviously, you'd be wrong on both accounts."

"The bridge burned down, though," he says instead of acknowledging the rest of what she'd said.

Her eyebrows rise. "And _who_ burned it down?"

"I don't know-"

"Don't play dumb, Dean. You might be cute, but being willfully ignorant isn't a good look on you. _Who._ Burned down. That bridge?"

He wants to snap at her for both calling him dumb and attractive - the woman can't even friggin' _see_ , how could she possibly know? - but instead thinks back to when it happened. Thinks back to the conversation at Cas' house the night he disappeared. "Michael?"

"I knew you had to be clever," she gushes at him. "Big brother tried to protect poor Castiel, tried to get him out of the deal he'd made. Obviously it didn't work. Might have actually made things worse, but who knows?" The faint upturn of her lips suggested that _she_ did.

"Wait- _what_ deal?"

She gives him an innocent and surprised smile. Too many goddamned smiles. "You don't remember how your mother was saved?"

Oh, he remembers. He may have never asked Cas about it, because sure maybe part of him thought he'd dreamed it. But in the back of his mind he always knew. It was just something he didn't want to openly question. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that, right?

His silence is enough answer, it seems, because Pamela continues. "Castiel made a deal, a trade, with the troll under the bridge. His life for your mother's. It appears that the troll came and collected."

* * *

Eventually, after a lot of threatening, coaxing and then outright begging, Pamela had told him where he could find the troll. A day's ride north west to the edge of the mountains, where he'd then leave his horse and continue to climb up on foot. At the foot of the second crest, he'd find a cave.

And he had damn well better find Cas there.

He'd turned over the rest of her warnings as he guided his horse just north of the setting sun. They were nearly immune to fire. Sunlight would turn them to stone instantly. Their skin was tough, but if you could break it they'd die like any man. Poison was useless because of their skill with potions. Their heads were too thick to bash in.

Basically, he had to hope he could sneak in and out without having to confront them.

Dean follows the directions to the letter but is still somewhat shocked to actually find the cave. Maybe he'd half-hoped she'd made it all up.

 _Just because there's a cave where she said doesn't mean the rest of it's true,_ he reasons.

Which is of course when he sees a strange shape moving about the entrance, a mere hundred feet away. He darts behind the nearest boulder and takes a few furtive glances.

The creature is surprisingly stout. Its body, hidden under a mass of animal skins and rags, appears rather undefined. All he can tell is that it's _big_. Long, gnarled strands of hair hang from its oblong head in dreads. He can't quite tell from this distance or angle, but he thinks he spots beady little eyes under a single mass of eyebrow. The big, long nose he definitely _can_ make out, and he thinks he could from twice the distance.

When it moves, it more waddles than actually walks. Its legs are long and quite thin in contrast with the rest of its body, but they seem to be perpetually bent at the knee. Dean questions whether it could even straighten them out fully if it tried, they're so rigidly held against its body. He watches as it shuffles awkwardly around a small camp fire, occasionally turning the shank on a spit with gangly arms nearly as long as its body.

 _Man-eaters,_ Pamela had warned him. _They'll eat many an animal, but manflesh is their favorite._

His stomach turns as he thinks of Cas and all the others who had disappeared from their home.

With the troll distracted, Dean slowly makes his way around to the entrance of the cave. It takes him time to find solid footholds, to avoid rocks that might slip out from under him and alert the creature. All of which would be hard enough if it weren't also the dead of night.

Yet he manages to go undetected. Waits until the troll's back is turned so he can dart into the cave. He rounds a small bend and allows himself to relax slightly. Sure, he'll have to sneak back out later but for now he's doing well. The cave tunnel stretches out before him, long but not too narrow, a dim light from up ahead calling to him.

He gets maybe five feet before something snaps underneath his foot.

A quick glance down reveals a broken bone, picked clean, just as he hears a screech from behind him. He fumbles quickly for the knife at his side as the creature bounds towards him.

Immediately he's impressed with both how massive the creature is and how quickly it can move despite that. So quick, in fact, that he's barely gotten the blade out of the sheath before it's on him, literally on him as it tackles him to the ground.

Its wheezing breath and the stench are pouring all over him and he thinks he must have hit his head, too, because it's just too hard to _think_. His body automatically struggles against the troll who is trying to pin him down with huge hands that could probably crush his skull if it tried.

Which it is trying to do, now that he thinks about it.

As he flails his legs to try and buy more space, he manages to get the knife up. It's not long, but he knows the tip is deadly sharp. Keeping Pamela's warnings in mind, he aims for the only soft spot he can find. With what strength he can muster, he shoves the blade deep into the troll's throat.

Blood dark and thick as tar shots out. The troll hisses, tries once more to grab hold of Dean, then collapses. The dead weight knocks the wind out of him. His lungs gasp in brief gulps of air, but it's not enough with the creature's body pressed heavily against his chest. Dots begin to speckle his vision and within seconds he loses consciousness.

* * *

Dean wakes up, groggy, to the sound of crunching bones. It's dark and smells of blood, a smell so thick in the air it's nearly choking him. His head hurts and his vision blurs at the edges. For a few moments he lays there stunned. His mind sifts through the details around him but has yet to come back to full consciousness. He floats between awake and asleep for a time before a single thought comes to him with pressing urgency.

 _Where's Cas?_

With a rush he remembers where he is, his memory mostly jogged by the heavy body still pressed on top of him. It takes several minutes, but he eventually manages to squeeze out from underneath it.

For a while he just leans against the cave wall, trying to collect himself. His heart stops beating in a frantic staccato and his breathing becomes more controlled. Finally, he allows himself to sneak deeper into the cave.

He knows he's reached the end when the flickering light around the corner is enough for him to see his own freckles. There's still the crunching of bones and the occasional slurping that echo around him. It's then that he realizes he doesn't have his knife anymore, still buried deep in the other troll's throat.

 _Well fuck._

There's a trail of bones that lead all the way from the entrance to hear, so all Dean has to do is reach down and pick one. He grabs the largest piece he can find and nestles himself into a corner. One deep breath, then another, is all he allows himself before he chucks it back the way he came. It clatters against a wall and then rolls through more bones before coming to a stop.

The noises behind him immediately stop. The shadows dance around him until another troll, bigger than the last, appears. It stoops down, giant nose scenting the air. Dean holds his breath and hopes the troll blood soaked into his clothes will mask his own smell. It must, because the creature doesn't turn his way. Instead it rushes out of the cave, making a deep _thrmmm_ -ing sound that reverberates and causes him to shiver.

When he can no longer hear it, he pushes off the cave wall and rushes around the corner. He's mindful of the seconds ticking away.

Thankfully, Cas is easy enough to find. He's bound and gagged, propped up in a corner. His clothes are a mess and he appears to be completely knocked out, but the tell tale rise and fall of his chest calm Dean's frayed nerves.

There's a crudely made stone-head blade by the fire. He grabs it and rushes forward, quickly trying to cut the ropes around his friend's legs and wrists. Cas groans slightly but doesn't seem to fully come to until Dean's pulling the gag off of him.

"Dean?" There's surprise bordering on wonder in both his voice and eyes.

Caught up in the adrenaline of the moment, he cradles Cas' face in his hands before crushing their lips together. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to just fucking disappear. Something like this happens, you fucking tell me and we fix it together."

Cas gulps and nods slightly. He's still pretty out of it and Dean realizes he probably thinks this is a dream. Annoyed, he pulls Cas up and shoulders as much of his weight as he can. They'll deal with the unfortunate reality of this situation once he knows Cas is safe.

"Anyone else still alive?" He doesn't see anyone else, but he needs to be sure. Knows he has to at least _try_ to help the others who went missing.

Cas shakes his head. "That's the last of them," he gestures towards the bubbling cauldron.

His heart sinks a little to know he's too late, then clenches when he thinks it would have been Cas in there next had he come any later. "Right." He licks his lips. "Let's get you out of here."

They stagger out of the cave. He has no idea where the troll is at this point, but being back out in the open is at least a small comfort. Careful not to hurt Cas too much, he begins to guide them back down towards the treeline.

This is not ideal and he knows it. The troll knows where they live. It's gotten Cas once before and if it's alive there's nothing to stop it from doing it again. But right now his only priority is to put as much distance between them and here as fast as possible.

A pained whinny fills the pre-dawn air, and fuck, he forgot about his damn horse.

"At least I know where the damn troll is now," he mutters.

"But where's the other one?" Cas asks, concern lacing each word.

Dean frowns at that. Didn't he see the dead one they'd walked past on the way out? "What do you mean?"

" _Dean,_ " he reprimands. "There are _three_ of them."

His words barely register before he's being knocked to the ground. His knees are throbbing with a dull pain but it's his back that's more of a concern. It's knotting up from the strange angle he came down on it. He rolls over, looking up at the angry mammoth of a troll looming over him.

"My sister," it snarls. "You killed my sister!"

"Sister?" he chokes out. "You're telling me that thing was a _chick_?"

Perhaps not the best thing to say, because the troll is hissing at him in rage. As its arms reach out to strangle the life out of him, Dean vaguely wonders if _this_ one's a female too. Not that it'll make him any less dead in a few more seconds.

A double _thud_ saves him - the first when a branch knocks sideways into the beast and the second when it hits the ground at his feet. Now it's Cas' turn to pull him up, dragging him along. "We need to get out of here immediately."

"No shit, Cas."

But then the third troll, the one Dean had seen in the cave, jumps into their path. The two men nearly fall over as it bounds towards them, earth shaking slightly with each step. It's not until it's within arm's reach that it slows, fingers curling into the front of Dean's shirt. And stops, completely frozen.

They watch in wonder as the creature's skin grows hard and turns from a ruddy brown to a smooth gray. The give of its skin fades and its hair becomes crisp and then solid. The rage in its eyes gives way to shock and then, finally, to fear before they turn hard and inexpressive.

Surprise keeps them rooted to the spot as they stare at the troll, now hard as stone and frozen before them.

Dean notices the sun beginning to peak out between the trees and lets out a breathy laugh. "Oh thank god," he mutters. The troll's stone hands are still gripping his shirt and it takes a moment to pry himself free. Cas is leaning over the other troll, also stone where it fell earlier.

"That was... convenient timing," he says once Dean walks over.

"I would've settled for _more_ convenient, to be perfectly honest."

They take a moment to enjoy their unlikely survival. Dean's eyes wander over Cas, cataloging each injury and silently swearing to make sure nothing this bad ever happens to his friend ever again.

Cas finally breaks the moment, uttering a weak, "You came for me."

It breaks his heart a little to think Cas is at all surprised, that he ever thought Dean would do any less. "Of course I fucking came for you, you idiot."

The smile he's rewarded with is breathtaking. He can't help himself. He leans in and kisses Cas again, nice and slow and thorough. It's a long walk back to the village, but with their fingers intertwined, Dean couldn't imagine anyone he'd rather be with.


End file.
